ECLIPSE
by bakablonde
Summary: They thought they had walked away from darkness. They thought they had overcome the past. But the darkest day of all now comes their way... WARNING: If you have NOT read my other Noir fic, Washing the Dishes, you will be LOST here.
1. Chapter 1

**ECLIPSE**

"Well I'm glad to know that's what made you drop off the face of the earth for the last two weeks." Uncle sits down heavily, rubbing his knee with his free hand.  
I situate myself on our bench, and take a bite out of my cone.  
"So that's what it's called these days? Doing the dishes?" Uncle leans back and shakes his head.  
"Washing." I correct him, feeling myself blush slightly. I can feel myself squirming on the bench and try to compose myself.  
"Interesting. They certainly never called it that in my time." He scoops up his ice cream and holds it for a moment as if in thought.  
"What did they call it?"  
He clears his throat, then looks up at the sky. "Well back then we used to…" his head starts to go back down, and I see him narrow his eyes suddenly.  
"Kirika." His tone changes, and is now very serious. I feel myself tensing just at the way he says my name.  
"What is it?"  
"Do you still carry your gun?"  
"No." I never want to touch a gun again. My days as an assassin are over, and I no longer worry about Soldats, now that I have Uncle.  
"That is unwise." He scoops into his ice cream again. "As it seems we are being watched right now. I would suggest you return to my office with me."  
I stare at him in disbelief, until the melting ice cream running over my hand gets my attention.  
"Finish your cone, then we'll go." he says calmly, and returns to scooping.  
I finish my cone, glancing casually about me in the park. I see there are at least two men that appear to be watching us. A sudden fear grips my chest.  
"Mireille…"  
"There's nothing you can do at the moment. Where is she?"  
"She went to the range with Anton."  
"Then they are both armed, and in an area of law enforcement. I wouldn't be too concerned for her safety there."  
"Okay." I feel as if I can breathe again, but this sudden fear will not leave my heart.  
He motions for us to stand, and I walk over to his limo with him. I slide into the back seat, and look out the window once the door is closed. It seems the two men watching us are not following us; I breathe a sigh of relief, and lean back into the seat.  
Uncle is talking on his cell phone, his voice low, almost as if he doesn't want me to overhear his conversation. He clicks the phone off as I slide forward in the seat, trying to listen.  
"Do you want to come to my office, or go home?"  
"Home." I say immediately. I want to be there to protect Mireille.  
"As you wish." He nods his head to the driver, and I feel the car turn. He digs down inside his vest and pulls out a gun. "Here. Use this until you have your own again."  
I take the gun, feeling it in my hands, the metal warmed from his body. I automatically check the gun and make sure the safety is off, and that it's fully loaded. I lay it down in my lap and sigh. Perhaps I was foolish to think I could ever truly leave my past behind me… I rub the spot on my belly where I was shot, feeling the knot. My hands go back down to the lump of metal in my lap. I look down at the gun and wonder if it is another scar I will have to carry with me the rest of my life.  
"Uncle- do you know who was watching us today?" I ask as we pull up in front of the apartment. He turns around in his seat as much as possible to face me.  
"Both Noir and Soldats have enemies, Kirika. The question is, which one of us is the target?"


	2. Chapter 2

_Noir_. I've almost come to hate the word, hate what it's done to me, to us. I check outside the window again, but don't see any sign we're being watched. I sigh and go back to cleaning my gun. Is it too much to ask, to just be able to live as Kirika? I know it's wrong, but I want this to be Uncle's problem, not mine.  
"Sorry to be so selfish." I mutter an apology to him under my breath.  
I hear a car door slam, and jump up to the window and survey the street as Mireille emerges from Anton's sporty car. Still no sign we're being followed. Maybe my prayers will be answered.  
Anton's laughter drifts upward and I can't help but smile as it seems to break the tension in the air. I hear them climbing the stairs, and go hide my gun. I sit down at the computer and turn it on, pretending to work.  
"Well top of the evening to you, little bit!" Anton bellows cheerily as they come through the door. I stand up and open my arms, knowing that I'm about to be swallowed up.  
"What do you say we all go out to dinner? My treat!" he squashes me happily into his chest.  
"No!" I cry out, alarmed at the thought of going out again.  
"Hey there, what's the matter?" he lets go of me and pats my head.  
"Um, nothing." I look down at the floor, trying to think of what to say.  
"Kirika, what's wrong?" Mireille frowns as she comes out of the bathroom. "Do you not feel well?"  
"My…my stomach." I hold my stomach for emphasis. "It's upset."  
Anton makes a clucking sound. "She's got a sensitive little tummy, that one."  
Mireille says nothing, and puts her hands on her hips, staring at me. Then she turns back towards Anton.  
"Another night then. I'll walk you to the door." She motions to him and they walk away. I slump back down into the computer chair, ashamed at my actions. I've never felt fear like this before. What is wrong with me?  
I hear her come back into the room, and she comes to me quietly, putting her hand on my shoulder.  
"It's not your stomach."  
"No."  
"Tell me." Her hands are in my hair, and I feel my head roll back at her touch. I want to relax, but I can't.  
"We were followed today. In the park."  
Her hands drop to my shoulders, gripping them.  
"I don't know who." I answer her silent question. "And they didn't follow me home."  
"I see." She says quietly. I hear her sigh, and her hands squeeze my shoulders more tightly. "So our actions as Noir may still be following us."  
I hang my head down. "I don't want to be _Noir_ anymore."  
"Neither do I." she whispers into my ear. "But I'm not so sure we have a choice."


	3. Chapter 3

I wake up tired, and the tingling in my arm tells me Mireille must have slept on me again. I flex a few fingers, feeling the blood rush back into my hand. I hear her yawning as she rummages through the drawers; I wonder if she's slept as poorly as I have.  
"You can stay in bed if you want." She murmurs to me as she gets dressed. "I'm just going to peek outside and then fix breakfast."  
I grunt and lay back, watching her go to the window and look out. I put my tingling hand over my forehead, vaguely remembering the dream I had last night. The room in the dream had been small and poorly lit, but it wasn't the darkness of the room that scared me- it was what _happened_ in that room.  
"You were restless last night." She closes the shutters back up. I sigh as I watch the sunlight disappear from the room. Once again, darkness has come into our lives.  
"Just a dream." I roll away and stare at the wall. _Or a memory_…I hope it was all just a dream. But it all seemed so real…I've never had a dream like that before. Every time I think about it, I feel that fear in my chest again.  
"I'll help you." I scramble out of bed, wanting to get away from my thoughts.

"So what did you dream?" she asks, sipping her coffee slowly, looking at me.  
"Nothing. Just some strange place." I answer quickly, and bite into my toast. _A place...where something bad happened_. Just thinking of it, a crushing, helpless feeling comes over me. The phone rings, causing me to jump. She gives me a sharp look, and goes to answer it.  
I overhear some of the conversation through the crunching of the toast; enough to know, from the sound of her voice, that it is Uncle. She's refused to call him that; and her fury when I first told her…I shove the last of the toast into my mouth, trying to forget that moment.  
"Well it was _him_. He said he was followed to the office this morning, and Soldats will be taking care of the problem. Of course we should still be on our guard."  
I nod, my mouth full. She looks at me and leans forward on the table.  
"Kirika- you'll need to carry your gun again."  
"I know." I swallow. "I cleaned it last night."  
"Good. You can accompany me on my spa day today." She says lightly, brushing her hair back. "If they decide to follow us today, they'll die of boredom."  
A spa day….I groan inwardly at the thought. Spies aren't the only ones in danger of boredom from a spa day.  
"Kirika- you just made a face!" she pouts at me.  
"No- no I didn't…" I stammer out, and get up to gather the dishes.  
"Oh but you did. And just for that, you get to do the dishes this morning…_alone_!"


	4. Chapter 4

I stare sullenly out the large storefront window of the spa. I'm tired, and bored. The only bright spot of the morning is that no one seems to have followed us; perhaps this time it really is just Uncle's problem. I plunge my hands back into my sweatshirt pockets, feeling my gun on the right, and my new cell phone on the left. Mireille insisted we stop and buy them on the way here. To me, it's just more weight to bear. "Is Ruthie done yet?" The old man sitting across from me yells out. He's been doing that all morning. I glare at him, but he doesn't even seem to notice me.  
"No sir, she's getting her facial." The girl behind the counter answers him patiently.  
He huffs and shakes out the newspaper. I swear he's read the same thing all morning. I stand up and stare out the window, then turn and go to the counter.  
"Mireille-" I start, but the girl waves me off back to my chair.  
"Getting a massage, then her facial." she quips quickly, and goes back to her computer.  
"Fine." I grumble, and go back to the window. How putting mud on your face solves anything is beyond me. I look down at my drawing pad and decide I have enough time to go by the park for a bit before she's done; it doesn't seem that we are in danger today.  
"Is Ruthie done yet?" I hear him say again as I open the door. I break into a run, glad to get away.

It's so warm out I've taken off my sweatshirt and am laying on my side, my sketchbook open but empty. The warmth of the sun has served to soothe some of the fear I've been feeling. The park looks innocent enough today, with people, children and dogs milling about. The two men I saw yesterday are nowhere in sight; I wish I could just lay back and sleep, but the part of me that is Noir will not let my vigilance lapse. Yawning, I go to roll to my other side and am aware of a blur of motion coming at me. I throw up my arm but it's too late- my face is besieged by happy licking tongue, attached to a wiggling grey terrier.  
"Scruffy!" a woman's voice sounds near me. "Behave yourself!" She kneels down next to me and reaches over.  
"I'm so sorry." She says, and I feel a sudden sting in my arm. I yelp and toss off the dog. I roll to my knees, and crawl over to my sweatshirt. Before I can grab it, she's picked it up, stepping on my hand.  
"Oh my, I'm just so clumsy today!" she smiles down at me. Her dark hair is pulled back into a ponytail that looks deceptively innocent. She drops down to the ground so her eyes meet mine. Something terrible is happening to me. I'm weak and trembling all over, and I can feel the drool coming out of my mouth.  
"My lady, if you want to live, you won't fight me." She winks at me, and picks up my tablet, tucking it in with my sweatshirt. "Because I've got the needle that can reverse what I've just done to you."  
"No-no." is all I can choke out, and I feel myself trembling uncontrollably as I collapse onto the grass.  
"Lambert! She's having another seizure. We'll have to take her to the doctor." She stands up and announces loudly.  
"Of course my love." A young man in jeans hurries over. Scruffy noses at my face, licking me, but I can't move to stop him. My body twitches and jerks on its own. I can feel the crowd gathering. I want to call for help, but my mouth only opens silently.  
"My little sister is having a seizure. My husband and I can handle it." The woman announces to the crowd, and I hear people walk away. He picks me up, and she follows next to him, my belongings in her arms.  
"Hurry Lambert, she's smaller than I thought." She breaks into a run, and he follows her, my head slapping into his chest. I'm having trouble breathing now, and the twitching is getting worse. I'm dying, I can feel it. I was so foolish to leave her- and now I'll never see her again.  
_Mireille, forgive me. _


	5. Chapter 5

It's a dark blur but I know I'm in some sort of vehicle that is moving and there's a mask over my face, pumping oxygen into me. My head is turned to the side and strapped down. I can feel the drool still oozing from my mouth. It's run into my hair and I feel sticky. "That was too close." The woman writes busily onto a clipboard. "I didn't know she was this small."  
We turn a corner sharply and she falls over top me, her long ponytail tickling my nose. I can't move to brush it away- my body feels totally limp.  
"Are you trying to kill all of us?" she yells out to the driver. We hit some sort of a bump and she curses under her breath. I feel the blood pressure cuff squeezing my arm.  
We come to a sudden halt and I hear the doors open. Light streams in, blinding me. I close my eyes and I feel the board I'm strapped on being lifted up and carried. A sudden cool whoosh of air comes over me, and I know we're inside. Things are still blurry, but there seem to be several people in lab coats gathering about me.  
"Tiny thing, isn't she?" the voices float in, as if from a dream. Hands are on me now, and some sort of tube goes into my mouth, making a loud noise.  
"Suction set up."  
"BP eighty-six over fifty and holding. Respirations at fourteen."  
"Give her a few." A tall man with glasses leans over me. "Then we'll start."  
I want desperately to move, to say something, but my body refuses to respond. I hear them talking in low tones, and I know it is about me. What do they want with me?  
"BP now ninety-four over fifty-six." A voice calls out. It sounds like the man named Lambert, but with my head turned sideways like this, I can't really see anything. And the roaring sound from the suction tube in my mouth makes it hard to hear.  
"Now then." The tall man with the glasses leans over me. "Let's do what we need and make sure she's stabilized." He takes the tube from my mouth, holds it for a moment, and puts it back as the drool starts up again. "And don't forget the type and cross."  
"Got it doc." Lambert's voice is behind me. The blood pressure cuff is removed, and a tourniquet goes around my arm. Another needle goes into me and stays there.  
The tall man flashes a penlight across my eyes. "Neuro check is shit, since you almost killed her."  
"I told you, I didn't know she was this small!" the woman from the park sounds angry. I feel the tourniquet snapped free from my arm, and my blood being drawn. A tape measure is placed at the top of my head and rolled downward.  
"We'll need pictures." The woman is now standing in front of me. "Think we can sit her up?"  
I feel the needle taken from my arm, and a band-aid applied. The suction is taken from my mouth. Straps are being undone, but I'm unable to move, even with my new freedom.  
"Lambert, help me hold her, she's dead weight." The woman groans. "I just want her sitting up for the shots."  
I feel myself being pulled upwards; the lights in the ceiling begin to spin, and I pass out.


	6. Chapter 6

"Rather common place, isn't it." Lambert's voice awakens me. I realize we're in the apartment, and he's carrying me past the pool table. "You'd think the Corsican heiress would want something better than this." "Now here's something interesting." I hear the woman's voice call out. "There's only _one_ bed- a very tiny bed."  
"Well she's going in it." Lambert turns and takes me to the bed, laying me down in the middle of it. The woman stands to the side, staring down at me.  
"Just all sorts of surprises in here, aren't there?" she looks at me, and I feel myself blushing.  
Suddenly I hear my cell phone ringing, from my sweatshirt thrown onto the dresser. To my surprise, the woman retrieves it and holds it to my ear.  
"Kirika!" Mireille's voice on the other end sounds nothing short of frantic. "Where are you?"  
"Mi- Mi-" I choke out, and start coughing. Drool and snot run down my chin. The woman sighs and takes the phone away. "Pathetic." she mutters aloud.  
"She's home. She's fine.You should really be ashamed of yourself. I thought you were bred better than _this_." She clicks off the phone and tosses it onto the bed. She takes my sweatshirt and wipes my face with it.  
"Let's go." She motions to Lambert. He straightens his jacket and they both look at me for a moment.  
"Until next time, my lady." He nods his head and leaves. She sighs and leans over one more time to wipe my face. I try to move my arms, but instead my left knee jerks upward.  
"I'm sure your Corsican _lover_ will be home soon to tend to you." Her voice sounds full of disgust. "You're an outright mess."  
She walks away and clicks the light on, looking back at me one more time.  
"Why?" I manage to whisper.  
She gives me a smile that is anything but friendly, and reaches back over, clicking off the light.  
"Dear me, my lady. Looks like you've been left in the dark again." her voice smoothly floats across the room, and then she's gone.


	7. Chapter 7

Mireille wipes my face again with the washcloth. "Here. Try to drink this." She holds a cup of tea to my lips. "The doctor said you can have it." I take a small sip, glad that my mouth seems to be working again. I try to squeeze her hand, but barely have the strength to do so.  
"It's okay. It's going to be okay." She wipes my mouth as she speaks. She glances sideways at Uncle, talking to the doctor, and several Soldats. Her eyes narrow. "We don't need all of them here." she mutters angrily under her breath.  
The doctor comes back over to me, shines his penlight in my eyes one more time, and smiles.  
"You'll be much better by morning." He turns and shakes Uncle's hand. "Call me if you need anything."  
"And as always, I thank you for your services." Uncle replies. He motions to the two men standing silently by the door. "Henry, stay right inside the front door. Marchaud, escort the doctor to his car and get an update from the street unit."  
"What do you think you're doing?" Mireille sits the teacup on the nightstand and gets up, facing him.  
"Protecting you." he answers absently, clicking something on his cell phone.  
"We don't need your help. We don't need _anything_ from Soldats." she snaps out, putting her hands on her hips.  
"Mireille…" I say her name softly, and she snorts angrily, but says nothing further.  
Uncle sighs heavily, and walks down to the foot of the bed. "May I?" he nods his head at me. "My knee is ready to give out."  
I nod my head back at him, and he sits down, leaning his cane against his knee.  
"Now then, Kirika. If you're up to it, I want to hear what happened."  
I nod my head. Mireille frowns.  
"Just what do you think you're doing?" she glares at him. She stands closer to me and takes my hand, as if she's guarding me from him. "I told you, we can handle this."  
"It is truly amazing." He snaps his phone shut and puts it back in his jacket. "But I believe you are more stubborn than your father, Mireille Bouquet." He reaches into another pocket and pulls out a pen and notepad. He raises his head and meets her gaze solemnly with his own.  
"I hope it doesn't bring you the same fate."


	8. Chapter 8

I take another sip of tea; my voice is almost gone, and I'm exhausted.  
"So the only names we have are Lambert, and a dog named Scruffy."  
"Yes." I remember how the dog had seemed so happy to see me, and wondered if that had been staged as well. They had been very clever with their plan.  
"And at no point did they mention myself or Soldats."  
"No."  
"Noir?" he asks, pen poised in air.  
"Not once." I shake my head. It does seem odd, I thought this happened because of our being Noir. For some reason, a chill runs over my body and I shiver.  
"Your name or Mireille's then?" he tilts his head, looking at me. I suddenly remember what Lambert said when they had come into the apartment.  
"Mireille…"  
"They said my name?" she asks, raising her brow.  
"Not your name. They called you… the Corsican heiress." I falter as I see her eyes widen. "They wondered…why you live like this."  
Mireille drops my hand. "Is that so." She says quietly, standing up. She goes over to the dresser and picks up the little white baby seal, turning it over in her hands.  
"And then she told Mireille on the phone that-"  
"Kirika!" Mireille's hands freeze and she looks at me, a warning flashing in her eyes.  
"She told you what?" Uncle looks at Mireille. She glares back at him and slams down the seal on the dresser.  
"I'm going to make more tea." She whirls and leaves the room. He turns to me and nods his head in encouragement.  
"She told her…that she should be ashamed of herself. That she was bred to be…better than _this_." I can barely get the words out. Am I some object of shame? Is that why Mireille is upset?  
"Uncle… is Mirelle…" I try to find the words, but am too tired.  
He clears his throat, and tucks away his notepad. He gets up slowly, leaning heavily onto his cane. I can see the pain flash across his face.  
"Mireille Bouquet was born to be a very wealthy and powerful young woman, if she so chooses." He leans forward and ruffles my hair. "It's in her bloodline." His lip twitches, and his entire face looks troubled.  
"And that, now coupled with her pairing with you, is more than enough for some people to see her as a tremendous threat."  
His hand runs over my hair, and tucks the sticky parts behind my ear.  
"And you have become …"  
"A target." I whisper.


	9. Chapter 9

I'm awake, but still so tired, I don't want to move. Mireille has me firmly wrapped in her arms. I realize my face is stuck to her shoulder in a puddle of drool. "I'm sorry." I whisper, just in case she's still sleeping, but I feel that she's awake.  
"It's okay." She kisses the top of my head. I sigh. A few days ago, this moment would be one of perfect peace. But I still have that fear, than anxiety, gnawing at me.  
"You had more dreams last night."  
"Just one. Over and over." I bury my head further under her neck, as if I can hide from it.  
"There was a room…something very bad happened there." Even now, in the daylight, I feel the skin on the back of my neck crawl at the thought.  
"To you?" she pulls me in to her tighter.  
"Maybe…" I can't tell her the flashes of what I've experienced- the screaming, the horrible beating. Throughout the night, sometimes I felt like I was watching it; other times it seemed to happen to me. The feeling I get, the helpless feeling, makes me shiver.  
"Forgetting your past…may not have been such a bad thing after all." She frees her hand to stroke my hair. "I don't like seeing what remembering it does to you."  
"Everything I remember…hurts." I whisper as I feel her hand in my hair, trying to unclump it.  
"Let's take a nice long bath together, we'll both feel better." she kisses my forehead.  
Suddenly the toilet flushes from the other room, and her head jerks up.  
"_Soldats_. I can't believe I let them stay." she growls.  
"They're protecting us."  
"Soldats took my family. All they want to_ protect_, is their own interest." She moves to get up. "I'm going to go have a talk with them about that." She gets up and goes over to the dresser.  
I sigh, knowing it is useless to argue with her.

I look at her, bent over the well-worn dresser, and remember what Uncle said last night. According to him, Mireille can have almost anything she wants. Yet here she is, in this small apartment, with this old furniture and narrow bed. It's almost as if she's exiled herself from something.  
_Something_….I narrow my eyes.  
"Why do you do it?" I ask. "When you could have it all, why do this?"  
She stops for a moment. I see her hands tighten on the edge of the dresser.  
"If they can't enjoy it…why should I have that right?" she pushes the drawer shut with her hip. "You can't understand…" she says softly. "I can't really explain it."  
I get up and wobble my way over to her and hold her. I feel her chin lay on top of my head, and her chest pushes into mine as she gives a deep sigh..  
"When you're lonely…it doesn't matter what you have. The size of a lonely world…never changes, Kirika."  
We stand in silence, and I listen to our breathing together. I remember the pain I felt at school, how horrible I felt, before Mireille.  
"But we're not lonely any more, are we?" I move my head to look up, and we stare at one another.  
"No... and our world is changing. It's just _how _it's changing that worries me." She takes her shirt and wipes my lip. "I want to have control of it- and right now I don't. " She releases me and steps back. "Neither do you." she looks at me to make her point.  
She turns back to the dresser, opens the top drawer, and pulls out her gun.  
"But if anyone thinks we're about to be a pawn in their game." She cocks the gun in her hand. "They're wrong. _Dead_ wrong."


	10. Chapter 10

"It's nice to have a more civilized visit in my office with you, Mireille." Uncle shoves aside a few papers on his desk. "Things were a little strained last time." "Things are _still _strained. I won't have Soldats running my life." she snaps at him. "It's been three days now and I'm tired of them in my house."  
"Then perhaps you would like to run them." he answers, and lifts an eyebrow.  
"What do you mean?" she asks, frowning.  
"Take charge of your own protection. I'll give you my best men. Use them as you will- to protect you both, and to investigate the circumstances that have occurred." He smiles. "Or just to go fetch your lunch, if you so desire."  
"Ridiculous." She snorts. She looks sideways at me. I shrug my shoulders.  
"It sounds good to me, Mireille." I venture out my opinion.  
She stands and begins to pace.  
"Your best men." She goes toward the window.  
"A dozen of them."  
"At my complete disposal." She turns back from the window and paces back to us.  
"Until this is resolved, yes." He stands up slowly, and I see pain cross his face.  
"What is it you really want, to make me such an offer?" she stops and puts her hands on his desk, leaning in to face him.  
He looks at me and smiles. I smile back at him. I'm feeling much better, and today was my first day back out of the house.  
"Because you are not the only one who cares about Kirika." he says softly.

I watch as the glass conference room doors slide shut. Mireille stands at the head of the table, looking over maps; her group of Soldats is with her. From the way they are looking at her, they seem almost to fear her. Even though they tower above her, there is no doubt as to who is the leader in that room.  
"She's in her element, and doesn't even know it." Uncle observes.  
"Well she likes to be in charge." I say, and wonder why he chuckles at my comment.  
"What's so funny?" I ask.  
"Funny… it's not really amusing, I suppose. To see her cast aside the very thing that comes to her naturally, that she was born to do." He stops in the hallway and pushes the elevator button to go down.  
"What was she born to do?" I walk into the elevator with him.  
"To rule amongst the overlords." he says quietly, as the elevator doors close and carry us downward.

"That ice cream was good." I wipe my mouth. "Thank you." I look around at the eatery inside his large office building. It must be convenient, to have everything in one place like this.  
"I missed not having a treat with you. I'm glad you're feeling better." He pushes back his chair to get up and I see the pain flash across his face again.  
"You knee is worse, isn't it?" I ask, coming around to help him.  
"Well stress makes it worse. I haven't slept well the last few days." he grunts as he moves. We walk back down the long corridor to the elevator.  
"I haven't either." I confess. My dream has been getting worse each night. The screaming, the beating- and it's always in the same room. In my mind I've given it a name: the nightmare room.  
"Well being kidnapped like that is traumatic. It will take time for that fear to go away."  
"I suppose." I shrug. I don't want to tell him about the dream- just trying to tell Mireille has been upsetting enough.  
"Excuse me sir." A young man comes up with a letter in his hand. "But I just signed for this for you in the mail room. It's marked urgent."  
"Was it checked?" Uncle asks.  
"Yes sir. It appears to be an ordinary letter. From the Laciaon prison."  
Uncle's eyes widen and he snatches the letter.  
"A letter from there… is anything but ordinary." He rips it open. I see him read it quickly, his frown drawing deeper with each line. When he finishes, he stuffs it inside his vest.  
"We must get Mireille and our men immediately." he growls at the young man, who nods and runs to the front desk. He takes my hand and we head towards the entrance doors.  
"Come, Kirika. We must go to the Laciaon prison at once."


	11. Chapter 11

I look over at our new backseat passenger Mireille has chosen to accompany us in the limo. It's the largest of the Soldats, the young man named Henry. His hair is cut so close, I can see the skin of his head shining. He now sits by the window, staring out, keeping watch. Uncle sits in front, as usual, and is talking on his phone. Another limo follows us at a distance. Mireille has taken no chances with our protection. I yawn, and feel Mireille's arm go around my shoulder, pulling me in to her. She leans against the door, and I lean on her.  
"Tired?" she murmurs in a low voice just meant for me to hear.  
"Yes." I yawn again. I find it harder to fall asleep each night- I'm scared of the dream coming.  
"Me too." She stifles a yawn. I know I've kept her up at night being restless.  
"I'm sorry." I whisper, wishing we were really alone, so I could kiss her. "It's my fault you don't sleep."  
"Not your fault. It's the fault of Soldats. I will never forgive them for what they've done to me, or you." she fiercely whispers. "That's why we're in this mess now."  
"Mirielle-" I start to whisper back, but she cuts me off.  
"Don't defend_ him_. He's just like the rest of them. I swear, if I had a way to destroy them all, I would." Her angry whisper is in my ear, and I glance sideways to make sure no one else has heard. Uncle is still talking on his phone, and Henry seems to be a statue staring out at the country landscape.  
She pulls me in to her tighter, and leans her head down on mine. "Don't worry about it. We're safe for now. Let's both take a nap- we have at least another hour in the car."  
I close my eyes. Safe. Maybe here, in the car, I will at last be free from the nightmare room.

"Stop it! No!"  
"Kirika!"  
"No! _No_!" I push away, but something is holding me tightly. The darkness swirls away and I open my eyes to find myself pressed into Mireille's chest.  
"Kirika, I'm right here. It's okay." Her voice sounds near tears. "It's okay." Her hands go through my hair. I'm sweaty and shaking. I can feel Uncle and Henry staring at me.  
"What happened?" Uncle asks, his voice full of concern.  
"They were both asleep, then Kirika started screaming." Henry's deep voice resonates over the car. "She acted like someone was attacking her."  
"Was it that dream again?" Mireille's voice is soft and soothing, and my breathing begins to slow down.  
"The same one." I adjust myself and try to sit up. "I'm sorry." I apologize to everyone for my behavior.  
"That kidnapping did this to you." Uncle sighs. "It makes me sick to see it."  
Mireille mutters something under her breath.  
"Let's talk about something else." I squirm uncomfortably. I don't want to be the center of attention over this. For some reason, I feel I can't tell them about the nightmare room.  
"Yes. Let's talk about why we're rushing to see an inmate at Laciaon prison." Mireille sounds fully awake now, and back to her usual self. I sit up, but continue to hold her hand. I just want to touch her right now. She's the only comfort I seem to find.  
Uncle grunts and turns half-way around in his seat, trying to face us.  
"Ah yes. Today I received a letter from someone I haven't seen for almost twenty years. He's going to be released soon. I wouldn't have paid it much mind, but for two things; he asked to meet you both in person and-"  
"And so you're just taking us to see some common criminal like that?" Mireille huffs out loud. Uncle looks at her briefly and purses his lips. I can see she tries his patience.  
"Droger is no common criminal." Uncle says, pulling out the letter again.  
"Droger! You mean Dumond Droger?" Mireille sounds shocked.  
"Did you hear of him from your father?" Uncle asks.  
"He used to call him Droger the fallen emperor." Mireille closes her eyes. "He said that Droger controlled everything but himself- and that brought his demise."  
"Your father once dealt with him." Uncle clears his throat. "As did all Soldats- before Droger's fall from grace." He turns the letter over in his hands repeatedly, no longer reading the contents.  
"He murdered someone ages ago." Mireille frowns, as if she's trying to remember. "But I don't know how that caused a break with Soldats."  
"It wasn't an ordered hit." Uncle creases the letter with his hands as if he's re-tracing the past. "He turned on an innocent- one of his servants… and killed her." He creases the paper in half and stares at it.  
"No." his tone is softer now. "He brutally murdered her. There is no other way to describe what was done." He folds the paper again and puts it back into his pocket.  
"Turning on one of your own is a serious enough offense; but the way he did it…left us no recourse but to exile him from our ranks. He lost all trust, all honor on that night."  
Uncle waves to the driver and we pull into a space. As if on cue, we all take out our weapons and place them on the floor.  
"Then why are we going to see an exiled Soldat that can't be trusted?" Mireille grunts out as she pushes her gun under the seat with her foot.  
Uncle raises his head and looks at us both.  
"Because it's good to know the face of your enemy."


	12. Chapter 12

The guard opens the door and we go in. Due to visitor limitations, Henry has been asked to wait in the receiving room. "He's got one guest already." The guard explains. "Well, two, if you count the dog."  
We all look at one another, and Uncle smiles as if we've won a prize. But as we file through the door, I don't feel jubilant at all. I feel very nervous and uneasy.  
The room we enter is large, with the cell taking up half the room. It's poorly lit, with only one window for the sun to shine through. A chair sits near the cell. The woman from the park sits in it; I catch my breath quickly and grab Mireille's hand.  
"Don't." she hisses at me, disengaging herself. "Not here, Kirika."  
I feel a small surge of anger, which serves to help with the fear I'm feeling. I drop back and walk behind her, trying to imitate her calm demeanor.  
"Ah, my guests have arrived." A rich voice calls out from the cell. The man behind the bars gets up from the bed and walks forward, putting his face up to the bars. He wears a dark red robe that shines softly in the semi-darkness of the room. I remember what Mireille said about him being called the Fallen Emperor. With his proud face and thick long brown hair curling down to his shoulders, he looks the part. He is younger than Uncle; for some reason I thought they would be the same age.  
"I've been waiting for this moment." He looks at all of us. "Waiting for almost twenty years." He nods his head towards Uncle.  
"Not that I've been idle all this time; indeed, during my exile, I've built a truly immense financial empire, more than I could have ever imagined in my youth. And I'm looking forward to the rewards of my efforts." He smiles pleasantly at us. "I'm looking forward to a lot of things upon my release."  
"About the letter you wrote-" Uncle goes to pull out the letter, but Droger interrupts him.  
"I see you have a problem with your knee. Tierney, give the old man your chair." He orders the woman, and she stands and waves her hand at Uncle in invitation.  
"No thanks." Uncle says. "I'll stand."  
"Pride…it's a funny thing." Droger remarks, his eyes moving over to Mireille. "It makes people do all sorts of things, even if it's not in their best interest."  
"What's that supposed to mean?" Mireille turns her head to one side as if she's analyzing him. They stare at one another and for some reason, I become even more uneasy.  
"I knew your father quite well. He had built quite an empire himself." He looks at Mireille intently, and she arches one eyebrow.  
"And now- to see you standing before me like this…. my, how far you've fallen." his tone takes on an air of disappointment.  
Mireille's eyes widen in surprise, then I see a dark look cross her face.  
"Tell me, just how does it feel to be this low and common?" he taunts her.  
Mireille charges forward, but Teirney jumps up and blocks the cell.  
"Your only way forward is through me." Teirney's face is just as fierce as Mireille's and their eyes are locked inches apart.  
"Mireille." Uncle's voice has a warning tone, but she ignores him. I see her hand tighten into a fist.  
"Mireille, please!" I cry out. She backs up slightly, never taking her eyes from Tierney's face.  
"We'll meet again." Mireille growls at her.  
"Oh, I'm counting on it." Tierney retorts back, a smug smile forming on her lips.  
Uncle steps in and pulls Mireille further back. "I think we need to have a small discussion. If you will excuse us for a few moments." He takes Mireille's arm. She glances at me and I nod my head for her to go.  
"If any harm comes to her, you will personally answer to me!" Mireille snaps out.  
"I would expect nothing less of you." Tierney answers.  
"Nor I." Droger answers smoothly, seemingly unruffled by the last few minutes.  
"Mireille, come with me please." Uncle's voice indicates he won't take no for an answer, and Mireille gives an angry huff as she is led from the room.  
"Her bloodlines come through quite well. Impressive performance." Droger rubs his hands together as if he's enjoyed himself.  
"I'm sure she's just as impressive _in bed_." Tierney's sarcastic voice matches the nasty look on her face.  
"Tierney!" he thunders so loud that we both jump. She turns to face him, eyes wide.  
"Go walk the dog. _Now_."  
She shoots me another nasty look, then reaches under the chair and grabs Scruffy. He seems undeterred from the events in the room and dances happily about as she leashes him.  
"And apologize before you leave." he commands from his cell. Her mouth drops open.  
"My...apologies for that last remark, my lady." Her lip curls in obvious dislike of her task. She walks to the door, giving me one last look.  
"Enjoy your time together." she sneers, and slams the door behind her.


	13. Chapter 13

"Ah. Alone at last." he smiles at me and gestures for me to sit in Tierney's chair. I do not move and his smile fades. "Not afraid of me, are you?" he sounds worried.  
"Should I be?"  
"Not at all. We have something in common, after all. We're both artists." He gestures to the covered walls of his prison. There are so many drawings taped to the walls, it's hard to make them all out from where I stand.  
"Most of them I did myself." He goes and takes one down from the wall. "But occasionally I collect them from other talented artists." He walks back to me. "My latest addition is this fine example."  
"Mireille!" I gasp out. It's the page of Mireille, half-naked, from my sketchbook. I rush forward, grabbing at it through the bars, but he backs away quickly.  
"Mind your manners now."  
"Give her back to me!" I cry out. How dare he? They must have taken it the day Tierney drugged me.  
"In a moment. Let's take a look at it together first, shall we?" he replies calmly, ignoring my outstretched hands.  
"Now then. It's a little rough, but the talent shines through. The lines.." his hand traces over the drawing and lands on Mireille's bare breasts. "They are quite beautiful, don't you think?"  
"Don't do that!" I shout at him. He looks blankly at me as if I've said something else, then turns and looks back at the sketch.  
"Even like this, in her most vulnerable moment…you can see it. You can feel it." his voice drops in admiration. "The anger. The power."  
I shake the bars in fury. That he would dare to touch her like that...I can feel the frustrated tears forming in my eyes.  
"You can have it back now." he says nonchalantly, as if my outburst never occurred.  
I stick my hand back through the bars, reaching for it.  
"On the condition you let me see your lifeline."  
"My- what?" I stretch in as far as I can. He holds the sketch just out of reach.  
"The lifeline on your hand. Fortune tellers use it to see how long you'll live." He takes my hand in his and opens my palm. I fight the overwhelming desire to pull my hand away. His fingertips slowly trace over my palm. His hands are so pale next to my skin, that I look even darker than usual. For some reason, I think of how the moon and the night complement one another.  
"Interesting." He places the sketch in my hand and drops it free. I snatch it away from him and take a few steps back. I look down at the sketch. Though still beautiful, it now seems tainted somehow. I shake my head in disgust.  
"So you've become rather close to…the man you call your Uncle."  
I glance over at him, wondering what he wants now.  
"Commendable. It's wise to know the face of your enemy."  
He sounds…just like Uncle.  
"Uncle is my friend." I glare at him. He's done enough with Mireille already; I won't let him start on about Uncle.  
He sighs and closes his eyes, as if remembering something.  
"He was my friend too, once. But he left me. In my darkest hour, in the time of my most desperate need, he left me. And he will do the same to you. Soldats comes before any single human."  
He opens his eyes and stares at me. I want to look away, but can't.  
"I find that I care about your future. So I give you this warning now. Don't trust him, or any of them."  
I do not know how to respond to this. Suddenly I think of what happened to Mireille and her Uncle. I remember Mireille's outburst from a few days ago: _Soldats took my family. All they want to protect, is their own interest. _  
I stare at Droger, unsure of what to say or do next. Why is he telling me these things?  
"Since you were so kind to give me a sketch, I made one for you." He goes back to the wall and leans down, gently tearing off a paper.  
"I don't want it." I blurt out at him. I wonder where Mireille and Uncle are, I don't want to be alone with this man any longer. I don't want to hear what he's saying.  
"But you might find it of interest." he holds up the sketch for me to see.  
My mouth drops open, and I feel my body begin to shake.  
It's same sketch of my dreams…_the nightmare room_.  
"Take it." his voice is low in invitation. "Go on, take it. I won't touch you again."  
I find my hand, shaking, reaching back in. He gently lets the paper fall into my hand.  
"That's my girl." he whispers. "I knew you'd like it."  
I take it back out, and stare at it. It's the same room- the same open shutters, the small bed on the right, the broken chair laying across the floor. I want to ask him about it, but find I'm too full of fear to say anything. I'm not sure I want to know.  
I bite my lip, and turn the sketch over in my hands. I see some writing on the back of the paper.  
It says: _For Anna_…  
"This name…did you originally draw this for someone else?"  
"No."  
"My name… is Kirika." _Isn't it_?  
"If that's what they would have you believe." He puts his hands on his knees, lowering his body down so his eyes meet mine.  
"What….what do you know about me?" I feel my chest tighten so hard I can barely breathe.  
"More than you do, obviously." he whispers, and beckons to me.


	14. Chapter 14

The room door opens and I step back. Uncle comes back into the room, and I tuck the sketch behind my back, underneath the one of Mireille. "My apologies. I had to speak at length with Mireille. I hope he hasn't disturbed you."  
I shake my head, unable to trust my voice right now.  
"She's been a charming visitor, even if she doesn't say much." Droger smiles at me. "She was kind enough to look at some of my artwork."  
"Yes, it seems you've made good use of your time." Uncle remarks dryly as he looks at the walls.  
"I've not wasted a moment of it. Honing my skills, researching and planning…I've actually been quite busy." Droger puts his hands on the bars, rubbing them over the grates. "We've both ascended, old man." His hands travel up over the bars. "Just in different places."  
"If that is your view-" Uncle reaches into his pocket for the crumpled letter, but Droger jerks the bars sharply and interrupts him.  
"But it's more than my _view._ It's the truth. In our respective areas, we've done well. Look at you- you're at the top of your game. And I've done so well in mine, that I'm soon to be released. So it will be interesting…" his hands now slide slowly back down the bars. "for us to play the _same_ game."  
"I have no interest in a game with you." Uncle grips the letter in his hand.  
"Oh but you _will_- if we want the same prize." Droger's lip curls in a smirk.  
Uncle's face darkens. I watch him crumple the letter in his hand. Droger leans forward as far as his face will go through the bars, his hair hanging outside the grates, curling down like a wild mane over his shoulders. His expression hardens and his eyes gleam with intensity. He looks like a wolf ready to pounce.  
"I'm looking forward to our next chess match. I don't intend to lose this time."  
"Really? Find yourself some new knights?" Uncle asks. I suddenly remember the knights attacking us on the roof, their faces hidden behind those white masks.  
"No- a powerful Queen." Droger breaks into a dark smile.  
"One that all the knights will fear and obey." He looks at me, as if we share some secret.  
My eyes widen. _Mireille_.  
"We shall see about that." Uncle says stiffly, taking my hand and leading me from the room. I clutch my sketch of Mireille tightly, as if Droger may take her again.  
Uncle drops my hand, whips out his cell phone and punches a number. "I'm afraid the situation has become very grave." he speaks into the phone.  
I feel my breath quicken, my own personal fears giving way to other thoughts.  
"Impossible." I whisper to myself. I quicken my pace to keep up with Uncle, who is now striding quickly towards the exit.  
I remember how Droger had touched Mirielle's picture, and my stomach twists into a nauseated knot. My kidnapping- had that been nothing more than a practice run to obtain Mireille? My stomach twists even more at the thought, as I realize that I alone cannot protect her. I clutch my sketch and look up at Uncle, with his broad shoulders and greying hair, walking ahead of me. _Soldats_. How ironic that what Mireille hates most, we need now to protect us.  
"Uncle- where is Mireille?" I tug on his jacket, interrupting him. He shakes his head in annoyance and looks down at me.  
"I sent her back in the other limo. She's safe." He purses his lips. "Unless she does something rash." He returns to his conversation on the phone.  
_Rash_…I hurry quickly to our limo. I must get home to Mireille immediately.


	15. Chapter 15

We climb into the limo, and I sit in my usual spot in the back. Uncle continues to talk on the phone, and I sit staring out the window. Long green lines of countryside pass by in a blur. The picture of the nightmare room sits on my lap. I can feel it- it seems to have a presence, a weight, all on its own. I try to push it aside, concentrating on my fears for Mireille. My mind races through many thoughts, settling on none. Droger… how this man knows about me, and why he seems to want Mireille, is a frightening puzzle. After a good length of time, I finally I hear Uncle click off the phone. I try to focus my thoughts, knowing I will be asked about my time alone with Droger.  
"So what did you think of him?" Uncle asks, shifting in his seat to turn his head sideways.  
"He is unusual." I reply, not wanting to admit my fear. Uncle snorts in disdain.  
"That's a kind way of putting it. He's as proud and arrogant as ever." he shakes his head in disbelief. "Perhaps even more so, if that's possible." He stares out the window for a moment, as if remembering something.  
"Take the overpass. It's quicker." He waves at the driver. He looks back to me.  
"So what did he say to you?"  
"He showed me some of his artwork. And he wanted to look at the lifeline on my hand. To see how long I would live."  
"Interesting." Uncle echoes the very same words I just heard before.  
"Why would he do something like that?" I ask, looking at my hand. I don't see anything unusual about it. I don't know what he was looking at- I have several lines, and they seem to cross.  
"Did he say anything else about it?" Uncle asks.  
"No." I lie. After he looked at it, he'd said: _I find I care about your future_. What had he seen? And his warning not to trust Soldats….I clench my hand, not sure what I should reveal to Uncle about our conversation.  
"It's just a superstition. It means nothing." Uncle's voice is reassuring. "What else?"  
"He gave me a sketch he did." I pass him the sketch of the room, knowing he will ask for it. He looks at it quietly and passes it back to me. I wait for him to comment, but he is silent.  
"Anything else?" his eyes bore into me.  
"He called me…Anna."  
I see his eyes widen. Then he frowns, and suddenly turns back around in his seat.  
"Why did he call me that?" I scoot forward.  
"Most disturbing." Uncle clears his throat, suddenly sounding hoarse.  
"Is that…is that my real name?"  
"Anna…was the name of the servant girl he murdered. Anna…is the reason he's been in jail all these years."  
I slide weakly backwards into my seat, feeling a cold chill run over my body. I take out the sketch he gave me again, looking at it, my hands shaking.  
_For Anna…_.


	16. Chapter 16

I can sense the activity in the apartment before I even open the door. Henry practically opens it for me, beckoning me inside with a nod of his head. I walk in, Uncle following me slowly. The steps were hard on him, but he insisted on coming in with me.  
"Where's Mireille?" I ask Henry.  
"Packing." He nods his head toward our bedroom.  
"Packing?"  
"Look at the pool table." He steps forward, and I follow him. My mouth drops open in surprise. I can't even see the table- it's covered with large bouquets of flowers.  
"For her. From _him_." Henry shakes his head. "They were on the table when we came in."  
"So he's got the key then." Uncle rubs his chin with his hand. "They must have made a copy when they had Kirika."  
"Lambert." I swallow the lump of nervousness in my throat. "It had to be Lambert."  
"Droger's as bold as he is arrogant." Uncle sighs. "Let me see the cards on the flowers."  
I turn from the pool table and go into the bedroom. Two bags are open on the bed. I see she's already packed my things, and is rummaging through her dresser. I study her, bent over so her long hair hides her face; is she as afraid as I am?  
"Mireille." I start, but fall silent. Perhaps it is best not to confess my fear.  
"We have to go. It's not safe here." She turns and busily stuffs her bag.  
"Where will we hide?" I ask her. I can't imagine she wants to go with Soldats.  
"Hide?" she snorts. "We're not going into hiding." She picks up the baby seal from the dresser and stuffs it into the bag. She zips it shut and looks up at me.  
"We're going to the most public place I can find. And I dare him to move _there_."

I stare out the window at the city below us. The Auberge- I've heard of it, seen it on the news. A place for the elite, the wealthy, and the famous. I never thought that I would be staring out of a penthouse suite looking at the lights of Paris.  
"How are your eyes? Still seeing spots?" Mireille's voice is teasing and soft. She seems at home already here, staging out areas of the suite for her own use.  
"I didn't know there would be paparazzi." I rub my eyes again.  
"They're crawling all over this place, trying to catch the celebrities. Good thing you're not famous. You'd be blind by now." She takes my hands away and kisses my eyelids. I feel myself relax, and lean into her.  
"We're safe here." She nuzzles the tops of my head. "Maybe you won't have your nightmares now."  
"That would be nice." I mumble into her chest. She's so warm and comforting. It's hard to imagine my life before Mireille.  
"Let's finish unpacking, then we can take a bath together." She says lightly, and I smile. I walk over and get my bag, then stand in front of the dresser.  
"The dresser is so big." I say, looking at the shining wood. It towers over my head. Everything in the suite is large and expansive; the bed here would not even fit into our bedroom at the apartment.  
"I'll navigate that if you want to start the bath." She taps my shoulder and hands me her favorite bubble wash. I nod my head and go into the bathroom. It's huge, big enough to hold our pool table. A giant bathtub is elevated on steps in the corner. A quick look at it sends me back to the bedroom.  
"You better do it." I hand the bottle back to her.  
"Why?" she looks puzzled.  
"Because- there's buttons." So many of them…this is no ordinary tub, and I want nothing to do with it.  
"You've never seen a jacuzzi?" her voice is incredulous.  
I shove the bottle at her, and she begins to laugh. She grabs my face and kisses me, still laughing.  
"Ok, you unpack, and I'll start." She kisses me again, more softly this time as she sees the pout on my face. "Silly."  
I ignore her as I hear her walk away, trying not to laugh at me any further. I unpack quickly, using only the lower drawers, the ones I can reach. We haven't brought a lot of clothes- I wonder how long we will have to stay here.  
A strange growling and gurgling sound is now coming from the bathroom. It mustn't be anything dangerous, as I can hear her humming to herself. I love when she hums like that; she doesn't seem to even be aware of it at all.  
I pull out my sketchbook and the picture of the nightmare room falls out, slipping onto the bed. I take it into my hands slowly, turning it over, reading the name on the back. Leaving the growling tub sounds behind, I exit the bedroom and go into the adjoining office. This suite seems to have everything. I find what I'm looking for and go back to the bedroom.  
I tape the picture to the wall by my side of the bed and then lay sideways in the bed, my chin on the edge, staring at my nightmare room.  
"Anna." I whisper, looking at the overturned chair, the open shutters. "Where is this place?"  
This place…._where something terrible happened_. I feel it, down to my bones.  
"What are you doing?" Mireille's voice causes me to jump.  
"Nothing. Just looking." I blurt out, rising up to my elbows. I realize she's naked. She stands in front of the picture, blocking it.  
"I can't believe you brought that thing with you." she crosses her arms angrily. "Do you _want _to have more nightmares?"  
"No. Of course not." I frown back at her.  
"Good." she turns and starts to tear it from the wall.  
"No!" I lunge forward, grabbing her arm. I slide off the bed, bringing her down to the floor with me.  
"Kirika- what's come over you!" her voice is shocked.  
I hold the picture up against the wall- a small corner has torn away, but I won't let the picture fall to the ground.  
"Let it _go_, Kirika." Her voice is softer now, matching the urging look in her eyes.  
My hand slides back up the wall and I re-fasten the tape. Her eyes narrow and she pushes me away from her. She gets up and looks down at me.  
"I'm going to take a bath before it gets cold." she walks away from me and enters the bathroom, slamming the door shut.  
"Mireille." I say to the empty room. I look at the picture again, feeling it pulling me in, crushing me.  
_Let it go._  
"I can't, Mireille." I whisper. "I can't."


	17. Chapter 17

I awake buried under the covers; the room has gotten quite cold overnight. I don't feel Mireille close to me. I peek out from under the covers just as she comes out from the bathroom. Without a word, she comes over to my side of the bed, picks up a pillow from the floor, and puts it back on the bed.  
"Did I do that?" I ask, sniffling as the cold air from the room hits my windpipe.  
"You had a busy night." She yanks open a drawer from the dresser.  
"I'm sorry." I let my eyes wander back to the picture taped on the wall. I know I was there last night, even though I can't remember details this morning.  
"You called out for help." She sits down on the edge of the bed, and leans over to finish dressing.  
_But no one came_… A sudden flash of terror overtakes me, and I choke out loud.  
"Did you say something?" Mireille looks up at me. I shake my head, not wanting her to hear the fear I know must be in my voice.  
"I'll call down for breakfast. You'll feel better after you eat." She stands and reaches for the phone.

I take another sip of tea. Other than the tea, breakfast has been quite good.  
"Sure you don't want anything else?" Mireille asks Henry, who stands inside our living room door.  
"No my lady, thank you." He smiles and nods his head. I've started to like him. He reminds me of a large, short-haired dog.  
A tap at the door and the sound of a voice is heard, and Henry opens the door. Marchaud, our outside sentinel, enters the room. He's the same age or perhaps even older than Uncle; he's thin and tall, and his hair and mustache are grey like Uncle's.  
"Telegram for Lady Bouquet." He hands the paper to Henry, nods at us, and closes the door again. Henry walks over to our table and hands Mireille the telegram. She frowns at it, then opens it.  
There's another tap at the door and Uncle enters. I smile at him but his face tells me something is wrong. Watching him walk, his limp seems to have worsened overnight. He looks tired; I guess this situation is taking its toll on all of us.  
"Good morning, Kirika." He pats my head with a hand that seems to lack any energy. "How are you settling in here?"  
"Just fine." I motion for him to sit down. He looks at Mireille, who is still reading, her frown not entirely gone.  
"What have you got there?" he asks. "A telegram?"  
"From Droger." She glances up at him. "Apologizing for his behavior yesterday."  
"I thought he did that already with all those cards and flowers." Uncle frowns himself and leans forward, extending his hand. "May I see it?"  
"No. You may not." Mireille says calmly, looking back at him. There is an uneasy moment of silence. Why is she being like this?  
"Mireille- please…" I blurt out, unable to take the tension any longer.  
"It's addressed to me." She says firmly, and folds it in half. Uncle straightens up, and adjusts his jacket. He gives me a look that makes me nervous.  
"In which case, on to our next matter of business." He nods his head toward the teapot, and I push the tea tray over to him.  
"There was a fire last night at the Jovan abbey." He pours his tea as he speaks. "Are either of you familiar with that name?"  
I look at Mireille, and she shakes her head. We both turn and look back at Uncle.  
"After you left the Manor, we returned the book to it's original resting place. The Jovan abbey." He slowly stirs the sugar into his tea. "As of this morning, very little of the abbey remains."  
"The book..." I suddenly feel weak. I look at Mireille, her mouth open in shock. "The book was destroyed in the fire?"  
"The fire was deliberately set." Uncle rolls his spoon between his fingers, then sets it down and looks at us.  
"Droger?" Mireille asks, and Uncle nods his head.  
"The book…burned." I whisper, unable to believe it's gone. The weak feeling remains, and I involuntarily shiver.  
"I fear it wasn't burned." Uncle clears his throat. "Far worse- I believe Droger has it."


	18. Chapter 18

_Page 18_

"You have to admit, he's a very smart man." Mireille murmurs in my ear as we sit in the back of the limo. "He outsmarted Soldats on this round."  
_Insurance_. That's what Uncle called it. To find the book, we need Droger and his group alive.  
"He's virtually assured himself a trouble-free release from prison." She twirls her hair in thought. "I always wondered what was in that book- did you read any of it?"  
"A little." I nod my head. "It's very old and fragile."  
"Tell me about it." she urges me, and I wrinkle my brow, trying to remember.  
"We're here." Uncle interrupts us. The doors open and I can smell the remnants of the fire. I cough a few times, as does Mireille. I look back and realize we've driven through some sort of old iron gate, which is now closed again by a policeman.  
"Wait here." Uncle waves his hand at us, as several men approach him.  
"Executor of the estate. I spoke to you this morning." He greets the men, and hands them a card. "My associates and I would like to take a look around."  
"Be careful where you go. We've marked off some sections with tape- make sure you don't disturb those areas." A man with a blue cap and a badge on his chest waves his arm toward the buildings. "In fact, I'll go with you."  
I look over at the two buildings, one a badly burned new building adjoined to an old stone building. I stare at the old building.  
"Mireille." I whisper to her as we all walk forward.  
"What is it?" she falls into step with me.  
"I've been here before."

"And as you can see, the fire started from here and spread. It's an obvious case of arson. Do you have any idea of someone who would do such a thing?" the man in the blue cap, Georges, looks over at Uncle.  
"I'm sorry, I really don't." Uncle answers quietly. We stand in the older part of the building. Uncle looks around at the walls, and at the glass display case that once held the book.  
"I understand thieves, but why set the place on fire once they had what they wanted?" Georges muses out loud. "It's very odd."  
"It certainly is." Uncle nods his head, and takes out his notebook. "If you don't mind, I need to make some notes."  
"Not at all. I hope you have adequate insurance on the paintings and books that were taken. We will keep an eye out for anything popping up on the black market."  
"I thank you for your help." Uncle nods his head. "You said there was one survivor?"  
"Yes, Frere Mueller is at the hospital. He's been badly burned and in the intensive care unit. I'm not sure he'll make it, from what I hear." Georges sighs. "We've tried talking to him, but he doesn't know anything."  
I walk away from them, studying the room. It seems familiar. I feel Mireille come up behind me.  
"So when were you here?" her voice is low, meant only for me.  
"I don't know." I wrinkle my brow. "But I know that if you go out of this room, there's a stairway to the left."  
"Let's look then." She touches my arm.  
"We're going to look around a bit more, if you don't mind." She announces out loud. Uncle looks up from his conversation with Georges and nods his head. We walk through the old archway and into a smaller room. I catch my breath as I see the old steps winding upward.  
"It's here." Mireille sounds shocked. "It's really here." She steps forward and takes my hand, looking down at me.  
"Do you want to go up there…" she hesitates. "What if- _that room_ is up there."  
We look at each other for a moment. She purses her lips, then nods her head at me.  
"But you have to go, don't you?" she says softly.  
I pull her hand and we start up the steps together.


	19. Chapter 19

_Page 19_

_Save me_. I feel the heat of fire on my skin, and tears sting my eyes. _Somebody…_  
"Kirika!" Mireille's voice startles me, her hands on my shoulders. I hear footsteps pounding up the stone steps and Uncle and Georges appear behind Mireille, whose face is lined with worry. Uncle bends over, grabbing his bad knee.  
"What is it? What happened?" Georges kneels next to me. I realize I'm sitting on the steps, my legs twisted together.  
"A fire." I whimper, pulling myself into a protective ball.  
"Well yes, it was up here too. Perhaps the smoke is too much for the young lady." Georges looks over at Uncle.  
"No. Another fire." I choke out. "The white house... with the green roof."  
Georges shakes his head. "Young lady, there's not a house on this property."  
"Just look out the window." I point upward to the landing. "If you tiptoe you can see it."  
"I'm telling you, there's no such-" Georges starts again, but stops as Mireille jumps up.  
"Excuse me." Mireille brushes past him and goes further up the steps, stopping to look out the window. My legs are too weak to allow me to get up, so I wait, watching her expression. She turns back and I see the disappointed look on her face.  
"There's nothing out there but a large garden with a statue of some children in the middle. I'm sorry, Kirika." she says gently, and I turn away, knowing somehow that she is wrong.  
"I want to go see. I have to see." I try to get up, and Georges puts his arm under me, lifting me. I see him look at Uncle, who nods his head.  
"I'm going to look around a little more up here." Mireille calls out to us. I know what she's looking for, and I feel a chill run down my back.  
"We'll see you in the garden then." Uncle limps slowly down the steps behind us. I feel badly for him, I know he's in great pain.  
"I'm sorry." I turn my head to see him, and he smiles at me.  
"I will humour you this once, but you really need to go to the car and lay down." His smile fades and I realize he's just as worried about me as I am about him. We make our way outside and I do feel better away from the smoke, as if a dream-like fog has lifted from me.  
The garden seems familiar, as we walk the circular path leading inwards to the statue. I let go of Georges and walk slowly on my own, looking around. I hear the clicking of Mireille's boots and stop, waiting for her. She joins me and we walk together.  
"I didn't see it." She says to me, and I exhale slowly, not sure if I'm relieved or disappointed.  
"Didn't see what?" Uncle asks. He and Georges are both looking at us, waiting for an answer.  
"That white house. I looked out every window for it." Mireille answers smoothly. I see Uncle's face twist a little, as if he does not believe her, but Georges nods his head in agreement.  
"It's just a garden here." Georges waves at the statue. The statue has three children, arms raised in play, with a ball on their fingertips. They look happy, yet I feel very sad looking at them.  
"It says something on the bottom." Mireille leans over, brushing her hair back to look.  
"Can you make it out?" Uncle asks, adjusting his cane and leaning forward on it.  
"For the little lost souls." Mireille stands back up and shrugs. "That's all it says."  
"No date or anything?" Uncle taps at it with his cane.  
"Nothing." Mireille sighs, and we stand in silence for a moment.  
_For the little lost souls…_ I feel a horrible sadness here.  
"Hey Chief! We're ready to pull out and lock up!" A large man in overalls makes his way towards us. He reeks of smoke, and I smell him long before he joins us.  
"What you doing out here in the memorial garden?" he pulls the hat off his head, flinging sweat like a wet dog.  
"Memorial garden? Empie, what do you know about this place?" Georges takes his own hat off his head, and fans himself. "This little girl says there was once a white house out back here. Know anything about it?"  
"I don't know nothing about a white house, but I do know they once had some orphans living out back here, and whatever they was living in, burnt to the ground with them in it." He took his hat and pointed towards the statue. "So they razed it all and made this memorial garden. That's what I heard about, anyway."  
"When did this happen?" I blurt out. I feel suddenly dizzy and I reach for Mireille.  
"Lands, now you're asking some tough ones." he puts his hat back on, as if it will help him think. "I was a young one like yourself when I heard about it. Years ago, fifteen, maybe twenty even. I was living round here at the time, so I heard about it. Sad thing, it was. Makes you wonder about God, don't it? To let them all die like that, every last one of them."  
_All except one…_


	20. Chapter 20

_Page 20_

"Are you sure?" Uncle asks. The car bumps softly out of the drive, and I watch the gates close behind us.  
"She said you had to tiptoe to see out of the window. I didn't have to do that, but a child would." Mireille squeezes my hand.  
"But then how did she survive? Empie said they all died." Uncle rubs his chin. "Children don't handle themselves well in a fire."  
A fleeting image flashes before my eyes. Dark, heavy, and…. safe.  
"The robes." I whisper. "The robes saved me."  
"Robes? You mean someone wearing a robe?" Mireille leans back and then sighs. "That could be anyone in such a place, Kirika."  
"I'm afraid she's right. Are you sure you don't remember anything else?" Uncle asks me. I can tell from his motion that he's still rubbing his sore leg.  
"No." I shake my head, closing my eyes to try and remember.  
"It's not that we don't want to believe you." Uncle's voice is gentle. "We just need to conduct further investigation about what happened to those children."  
_I know it's true._ It feels real, it has to be real.  
"But you believe me, don't you Mireille?" I open my eyes and whisper to her.  
"Of course I do." She strokes my hair, but something tells me she's still not sure.  
"Perhaps Frere Mueller will have more answers for us. We're stopping at the hospital next to ask him a few questions." Uncle takes his notepad out of his pocket and flips it to a clean sheet, then stuffs it back into place.  
"Maybe it was him. Maybe he was the one that saved me." The thought of visiting Frere Mueller gives me a sudden surge of hope.  
Uncle sighs and turns back to me. He looks uneasy, and I feel my hopes fade.  
"Kirika. Has it ever occurred to you that perhaps you weren't saved? What if instead of being saved, you were _taken_?"  
I stare at him, unable to speak.  
"Somehow you wound up at the mansion and became Noir. Someone out there did this, and handed you over to Altena. There have been two deadly fires now at the abbey, and I suspect both of them are connected to Noir."  
"That's a horrible thought." Mireille says quietly. "I hope it's not true."  
"No more horrible than what happened to you." Uncle says gently, and Mireille looks at him for a moment, then turns away, staring out of the window.  
"I don't need _your _sympathy." she hisses angrily under her breath. I close my eyes and lean back. The car becomes silent, each of us tense in thought.  
A dark robe….  
For some reason I remember my visit with Droger, and his long dark robe.  
_Droger knows about me, about the nightmare room. How?_  
A sudden thought occurs to me, and I try to shake it off, but find it impossible.  
_Was Droger the robe that took me from the Abbey?_


	21. Chapter 21

_Page 21_

"Only two at a time." The nurse looks sternly at us. I turn to look at Uncle and he nods his head at me.  
"Yes, you can go first. But just for five minutes. He's critically ill and we have much to do."  
"I understand." I eagerly pull Mireille into the small room with me, hoping to get some answers. A strong, strange odor hits my nose, causing my eyes to water.  
"I hate hospitals." Mireille mutters under her breath.  
I step forward, slightly intimidated by all the clicking machinery attached to the man in the bed. He's wrapped all over with white cloth and gauze, and the skin I can see looks horrible. Mireille leans over him.  
"Well, he's asleep. Now what do we do?" she turns back around and looks at me, putting her hands on her hips. "Should we wake him?"  
"_Noir_…" I can barely hear the whisper. I duck around Mireille and take a look. The man's eyes are now open, and looking sideways at me.  
"Of course you have come." his voice is hoarse, as if he has been yelling. "Noir always destroys that which creates it." He closes his eyes again.  
I look at Mireille. She looks as confused as I feel.  
"Come then, finish me off." he moans. "I'm in such pain…may the dark hands release me." He groans again, eyes still closed.  
"We didn't come to kill you." I want to take his hand, but am afraid of hurting him if I touch him. "We came because of the book."  
"I have failed you." his eyelids flutter momentarily. "Oh, why was I not destroyed too?" his voice sounds as if he's ready to cry. I can feel his despair.  
"But the book wasn't destoyed!" I blurt out, desperate to somehow console him. He makes a small coughing sound.  
"What- what-" he coughs again, his eyes watering.  
"It was stolen by Dumond Droger." Mireille says evenly. "Do you know-"  
"_Droger_! God help us!" his head jerks up and then drops back as he chokes out a pained moan. The machinery starts wildly beeping. I jump back, bumping into Mireille. The door flings open and the nurse rushes in, her face livid with anger.  
"What are you doing to him!" she runs past us to the clicking machinery. "Get out!"  
"You must get it back!" Frere Mueller's voice is so hoarse I can barely understand him. His padded hand reaches out, trying to grab mine. "Promise me!" I lean forward and take his hand, his eyes burning a plea into my heart.  
"I said get _out_!" the nurse breaks my hand from his, pushing us back. Mireille curses under her breath and turns to the door. I shove the nurse aside, hearing her hit the floor behind me. I kneel down next to the moaning figure. His eyes are full of tears.  
"Promise me….don't let him destroy you. An-" he gasps out. I hear the commotion behind me and feel hands on my shoulders, roughly pulling me to my feet.  
"I promise!" I'm being yanked backward now, out into the hall. Something is flashing red and people are milling all around, but I can only concentrate on one thing.  
_Promise me…don't let him destroy you_.


	22. Chapter 22

_Page 22_

I lay on the bed sideways, looking at the picture of the nightmare room. My head is full of thoughts, overunning each other like wild vines, twisting into nowhere. Was I taken from the abbey? The book- why did I make such a promise? Especially with the warning _don't let him destroy you_. Frere Mueller had started to say something- was it my real name? My name… could it really be Anna?  
"Anna…" I say it out loud, trying to see if it fits. I look at the picture on the wall. "Anna- what happened there?"  
My thoughts are interrupted by the sounds of Mireille and Uncle arguing again. I hear the bedroom door slam behind me and I turn my head to look at her. She looks at me and shakes her head. Sitting down heavily on the bed, she takes off her boots and throws them against the closet door.  
"Still not speaking?" she twists back around for a moment, then snorts in disgust. "Fine. You're just as crazy as he is. No wonder the two of you get along."  
I feel a surge of anger well up in me, but refuse to respond. I don't want to get into a fight about Uncle again.  
I roll to my side so I can watch her get ready for bed. Her movements are shortened by anger; she jerks her nightshirt down over her body quickly, returning my gaze without speaking.  
She turns and stuffs her boots into the closet, then slides the doors shut. She leans on the door and sighs.  
"You used to look at me differently… I guess the honeymoon's over." The anger is gone from her voice. She walks to the nightstand and picks up her purse.  
"What- what does that mean?" I ask, shocked.  
"Nothing." She opens her purse and takes out the telegram from Droger, reading it again. She closes her eyes and shakes her head.  
"Nothing…just foolishness." 


	23. Chapter 23

_Page 23_

The coldness of the room matches the bitterness of the night spent with Mireille; even though we're in the same bed, I might as well be alone. She stayed up late on the computer, seeming to want to avoid me. I sigh and look at her, facing away from me, still sleeping. She must have stayed up very late to not wake up before me- or perhaps my nightmares kept her up again. A small twinge of guilt washes over me and I get up quietly and go out to the dining room.  
I sit at the table, and put my head down in my hands. I hear the door open and Uncle's voice as he speaks with Henry. I lift my head up and smile at him as he comes into the dining room.  
"Good morning, Uncle." I'm glad to see him. He looks tired, and seems to move more slowly than usual. "How are you feeling this morning?"  
"No worse than you." He smiles in a kind way that makes me feel like crying. He moves toward me and I get up out of the chair, stumbling into him. His arms go around me and I sob into his neatly pressed suit.  
"I'm sorry." I gulp out. I am _Noir_, I should be stronger than this.  
"We are all in our own pain." His hand gently pats my hair. "Even Mireille."  
I sob again at this and nod my head. "It's…it's all changing."  
He says nothing, stroking my hair as tears run down my face. I fight for some control, but the sleepless nights have made me so tired that there's little fight left in me.  
"Did she show you the telegram?" his voice swirls in amongst my sorrow.  
"What? Oh- no." I say, blinking my eyes rapidly and trying to focus myself.  
"Not even you…" Uncle looks down at me. "Interesting. And…. disturbing."  
"What-" I start, but he holds up his finger, quieting me.  
"She's supposed to be your partner, isn't she? In every way, even as _Noir_. And yet, she keeps this telegram to herself. Why?"  
"I didn't ask her to see it." I look up at him, my tears gone, now replaced by curiosity.  
"I doubt that she'll show it to you." He shakes his head. "And I doubt that this will be the only one she receives."  
I stare up at him, not understanding fully what he means, but I feel something twist in my heart.  
"You know of Droger's intentions with Mireille. I believe he made that quite clear."  
_A Queen. One that all the knights will fear and obey_.  
"I'll protect her." I square my shoulders up.  
"So clever. So clever, to get her to come to him." He closes his eyes. "How do we protect her from herself?"  
I step back in shock. "But she wouldn't do that- she would never do that!"  
He sits down heavily, and takes my hand in his.  
"It's no secret that Mireille hates Soldats. Any more than it's a secret that Droger hates us. Revenge…..is a powerful motivator."  
A sudden memory of Mireille in car on the way to the prison the flashes through my mind. _I swear, if I had a way to destroy them all, I would. _  
"No." I shake my head in disbelief. "She won't go."  
"For her sake, I hope not." His look makes me uneasy. I remember what Droger said during our visit. _Soldats comes before any single human. _  
"If Mireille tries to join Droger-" I can see the answer in his eyes and draw my breath sharply.  
"We will have no other recourse, Kirika. I'm sorry." 


	24. Chapter 24

_Page 24_

"How lovely." The sarcasm in Mireille's voice cuts into the room. Uncle lets go of my hand and I step back. "Are you sure I'm not interrupting anything?"  
I shake my head, and go back to the table. I can feel her glaring at me.  
"It's been a stressful time for us all." Uncle clears his throat and motions for Mireille to have a seat. "Don't you agree?"  
She sits and silently looks at him. As I watch them stare each other down, I feel more fear as I see the defiance grow in her face. The conversation with Uncle rings in my ears. _How do we protect her from herself…_  
"Maybe we should call again for breakfast." I venture out, trying to break the tension. I hear commotion in the living room and breathe a sigh of relief. Henry rolls the cart in, and silently sets out the morning spread for us. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Mireille looking at the cart.  
"Expecting something besides breakfast?" Uncle asks my question out loud.  
"No." her reply is terse. "Let's eat."

"Try not to make a scene when we visit Frere Mueller this morning." Mireille pulls on her boots. "That was embarrassing yesterday to be told to leave like that."  
"I'm sorry." I stand by the bedroom door, watching her. She stamps her boot down on the floor, gives a final tug and then stands up.  
"Finished. Let's go." she reaches for her purse on the nightstand.  
"Mireille- can I see the telegram?" I ask softly. I see her shoulders stiffen and she clenches her purse in her hand.  
"Why, so you can tell _him_ about it?" she turns around so quickly that I step back. She shoves the purse into my chest, backing me into the wall by the door.  
"Mireille!" I gasp out, shocked by her behavior.  
"Isn't that what this is about? You're not asking because you care about _me_- it's because Soldats wants you to spy on me!" her voice is harsh. "Admit it!"  
My mouth is open as I stare back at her. She leans in closer, her eyes burning into mine.  
"Soldats is the cause of all our pain- how can you protect them? My whole family- even my uncle, my _real_ uncle, not some spy pretending to care about me- are gone! Gone, Kirika!" she pushes the purse so hard into my chest that the clasp jabs into my skin, causing me to wince.  
"It hurts, doesn't it?" she drops her arms and steps back, composing herself. She looks over to the wall where I've taped the picture of the nightmare room. "They've hurt…both of us."  
I look at the picture, and feel the tight fear well up in my chest. _Something terrible…_  
"You're afraid. I see it in your face." She says quietly, interrupting my thought. "I've never seen you afraid before, Kirika."  
I turn my head to look at her and we stare at each other.  
"Don't you want this nightmare to end? Haven't we all suffered enough?" she puts her hands on my shoulders, her grip matching her intense look.  
"I do." I'm so tired I could cry. I do want it all to be over, to just go back home.  
"Then you need to decide just whose side you are on. Mine- or theirs."

_Page 25_


	25. Chapter 25

_Page 25_

"We're going out the side entrance today. There are paparazzi crowding the front." Uncle nods his head and we follow him through the throng in the lobby. Henry lumbers ahead of us, parting the crowds with his large body. The noise and chatter seem to overflow my senses and I shake my head, trying to clear it.  
"Follow me." Henry points, and we duck past the suited men at the door. It's a relief to go outside, but the unusually hot and humid air sucks the last of my energy out of me. I glance up at the sun, squinting. Out of the corner of my eye I see a man up on a balcony, watching us. I stop and turn for a better look, but he's gone.  
"What is it? Is someone watching us?" Mireille follows my gaze.  
"I thought I saw a man." I shrug.  
"What did he look like?" Henry asks as he opens the car door for us.  
"He was like a shadow in the sun. Very thin. With an overcoat and hat." I can't imagine how hot he must be, dressed like that in such weather. I go to climb in but Henry stops me.  
"Where did you see him?"  
"Over there- on that…oh, it's a fire escape." I had thought it was a balcony. I'm starting to doubt now that I saw anyone at all, and feel silly for mentioning it.  
"Sounds like the matchstick man." Henry mutters under his breath.  
"Don't be ridiculous." Mireille's voice cuts in. "There's no such thing."  
"Please everyone, let's all get in the car." Uncle gestures and nods. I get in and settle myself between Mirelle and Henry.  
"What's the matchstick man?" I ask him.  
"Kirika, don't bother with it!" Mireille says sharply.  
"It's just a superstition. It means nothing." Uncle leans forward to adjust the air conditioning vents.  
"Then tell me." I look back at Henry, who shrugs uncomfortably and clears his throat.  
"The matchstick man is…. like a warning, I guess." he looks down and adjusts his tie, not looking at me. The silence in the car is heavy like lead. I feel the same fear overtake me, the familiar chill I get when I see the nightmare room.  
"It's death, isn't it?" I whisper aloud. No one says anything, and Henry turns to look out the window. Mireille sighs and turns her head away, avoiding me.  
I close my eyes and lean back, taking a deep breath. All I can see is that image in the sun, thin and seeming to stare at me.  
_The matchstick man…a messenger of death_.

_Page 26_


	26. Chapter 26

_Page 26_

"This time I think I should go first. I imagine I'm far less exciting than _Noir_." Uncle tries to smile away my disappointment.  
"I understand." I sigh and nod my head. I have so many questions, but this visit isn't just for me. I sit down on the vinyl chair and clunk my head back into the wall. I feel so hot and drained. Nothing I went through with Soldats, or at the Manor, made me feel as tired as I am now. Somehow, it's as if the very energy of life is being siphoned from my body.  
"Going to get a drink." Henry grunts as he gets up, and lumbers over to the water fountain.  
Mireille sits down next to me and idly flips through a magazine. I stare at her, trying to read her somehow. There's no sign of her earlier outburst; she might as well be waiting to get her hair done, reading quietly, seeming oblivious to the world around her.  
"Why are you staring at me?" she asks calmly.  
"Just- you've been so…strange. Since the telegram." I keep my voice low.  
"Maybe it's _you_ who's been strange- since the picture." she turns the page. "Did you ever stop to think about _that_?"  
I feel my mouth open, but am unable to reply. I silently watch as Henry returns and sits down. I look past him and see Uncle coming back down the hallway. Eager with anticipation, I jump to my feet. I have so many questions, I'm not sure where to start.  
"Our turn already?" Mireille gets up and stretches. "He must be tired."  
"No." I whisper, looking at Uncle's face. "He's dead."

"More water?" Mireille asks me. The room is still spinning, and I still feel sick to my stomach.  
"No…no thanks." I hold onto my stomach. Uncle is sitting next to me, and I feel him put his hand on my knee, giving me a reassuring squeeze.  
"I'm sorry, Kirika." he sighs. "He died this morning."  
"Well, they did say he might not make it." Mireille takes the cup and hands it to Henry. "And our visit yesterday may have done him more harm than good."  
"I don't believe it was the visit from yesterday. I believe it was the visit from this morning." Uncle removes his hand and leans heavily on his cane as he stands.  
"He had another visitor this morning, right before us. His niece." He turns and looks at us both. "A niece- who wears her hair pulled back and has a small dog."  
_Tierney_. My stomach twists even more at the thought of her and her needles.  
"I'm sure it was over quickly." Uncle shakes his head. "Come, we have no further business here."  
Mireille holds out her hand, pulling me up. She has a strange look on her face, almost as if she's amused.  
"So- Droger wins again." She arches an eyebrow. "Impressive."  
_And the matchstick man_…I shiver, remembering the thin figure in the sun.

_Page 27_


	27. Chapter 27

_Page 27_

We pull up in front of the hotel. The traffic is back to normal, and we are able to get out of the limo without difficulty. My stomach still doesn't feel well, and I step carefully so as not to disturb it more. The lobby is the quietest I've ever seen it; I'm grateful for the calm as I gingerly make my way to the elevator.  
"Lady Bouquet?" the concierge calls out. She runs from her desk over to us.  
"I've a letter for you at the front desk. Shall I fetch it?"  
"No- I'll get it myself. Thank you." Mireille answers smoothly and nods her head. There's no surprise in her voice- was she expecting this?  
I watch as she walks quickly over to the desk.  
"I told you." Uncle says gravely. "I told you he would write to her again."  
"She wouldn't show me the telegram." I don't dare mention the rest of the conversation to him. I watch as she opens the letter, and see several pictures fall out onto the floor. She bends over to scoop them up; I see the surprised look on her face as she glances at them. The look changes and I see her brow furrow as she reads, ignoring us completely.  
"He's dragging her into the past with him, feeding her hate. You must help me, Kirika." Uncle puts his hand on my shoulder. "We cannot let her walk down the same path as Roland Bouquet."

_Maybe later_. That had been her reply once I'd approached her at the desk and asked to see the pictures. I watch as she stands in the corner of the elevator, reading the letter again. The silence is uncomfortable to me, but she seems to not notice, or not care.  
The doors open and we file silently out, each in our own thought. My stomach is giving me fits; I resolve to have some tea to try and settle it.  
"Marchaud. Anything?" Uncle asks our hallyway sentinel.  
"Nothing. Very quiet." Marchaud replies "Henry- care to switch up?"  
"Absolutely. Go on in, I will take the door." Henry bows.  
"I'm going to make tea, if anyone would like some." I say as I head into the kitchen.

We are all seated at the table, even Marchaud. He looks relieved to sit down- I think he may be even older than Uncle. As always, Mirielle and Uncle sit at opposite heads of the table. I wonder if they will ever get along, or always fight for leadership.  
Mirelle carefully snaps shut her purse and shoves it aside to make room for her tea.  
"Droger sent me another letter. It was…very interesting." she taps her fingers on the table. I'm relieved she's mentioned it; maybe now things will be better.  
"Were you at my father's wedding?" she looks pointedly at Uncle. He glances quickly to Marchaud, who frowns.  
"I was in Italy at that time. My assignment kept me there for several years." Uncle replies. "What does Droger have to say about it?"  
"He says…he was the best man. And he sent a picture." Her voice drops a little with emotion. "A picture of my parents…with him."  
"I think Droger is trying to manipulate you, Mireille." Uncle says gently. "He may distort the truth for his own gain."  
"And of course Soldats would _never_ do such a thing." Mireille snaps.  
"Mireille, please…" I start, but she waves at me with her hand to be quiet.  
"Then tell me something." Her stare is directed back at Uncle. "Is it true that when Droger came to you for help, you turned him in to the police for murder?"  
Uncle and Marchaud look at each other again. I start to feel nervous. I do not want to think that I cannot trust Uncle, not after all this.  
"It is a matter of perspective. I turned in someone who committed murder. There was no _helping_ what that man had done. It was a horrible thing that could not be excused." Uncle's eyes narrow. "It was an act of true dishonor."  
"And murder is honorable? Murder is murder- the end is the same. No one at this table has clean hands- _no one_." Mireille states firmly. "There couldn't be another reason you had him locked away, could there?"  
"Discussing the past is pointless!" Marchaud interjects loudly and slams down his cup. "Do you not realize that every day he has the book he grows stronger? Soon he will no longer just twist and bend you-" he looks at Mireille, then picks up his napkin and rips it in half.  
"He will _break_ you."

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	28. Chapter 28

_Page 28_

"Don't you understand now?" Mireille quickly closes the bedroom door behind us. After Marchaud's interjection, Uncle had asked that they be excused. I had watched them talk for a few minutes, then Uncle declared he was leaving for the night.  
"I see it now. I see why there were only pages here and there. The whole thing, in its entirety- yes, that's why no one person could have it! That's why they had to keep it in a neutral place, like the abbey." Mireille paces our bedroom in excitement, clutching the letter in her hand. "That's why they needed _us_ to get it back from Altena. She was tearing them apart, splitting them apart with it. Just like Marchaud ripping that napkin."  
I sit down on the bed, bewildered. Could all this be true?  
"And now Droger has it. It's not just insurance- it's the very heart of Soldats!" her face is flushed with excitement, and her eyes glitter in a way that makes me uneasy.  
"I'm going to make some calls back to Corsica. I need to see if what Droger wrote in the letter is the truth." She strides over to the dresser and yanks her phone out of her purse.  
"Mireille-" I start, but she shakes her head impatiently at me as she opens the bedroom door.  
"I'll be back soon." she slams the door behind her.  
"But- Mireille…" I sigh. "If the book is the heart of Soldats- then what is it for _Noir_?"

I wander back out into the living room. The door to the den is closed; I can hear Mireille talking inside the room. Marchaud sits impassively in a chair by the door. I go over to him and stand silently next to him.  
"You have questions for me." He doesn't bother to look at me.  
"I just want the truth."  
"The truth… died with Altena. We should leave it at that."  
I sigh, and scuff my toes across the thick carpet.  
"But Droger…seems to know some things."  
"He will twist what he knows to his advantage. Beware." his reply is curt.  
"I just want to…" I falter. I want to know…everything.  
"It is better to deal with our current situation. Chasing the ghosts of the past- will surely disturb those who should not be disturbed."  
I decide to try one more time.  
"He called me...Anna."  
Marchaud's head jerks around and he looks at me. His eyes narrow.  
"And we all know what happened to _her_, don't we?"

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	29. Chapter 29

_Page 29_

Mireille comes out of the den and looks at us, frowning. She snaps the cell phone shut.  
"What are you two doing?" she gives me a suspicious look.  
"Just…talking." I shrug.  
"You don't really think Marchaud will give you any answers, do you? Not after _he_ instructed him not to. I'm so glad he's gone." She tosses her hair. Marchaud clears his throat, but says nothing.  
"It doesn't matter. I've made my calls. Everything Droger said in the letter is true."  
"And what might that be?" Marchaud inquires. Mireille looks at him and arches an eyebrow.  
"My secrets for yours." she challenges him. The room falls silent, and I can hear Henry talking to someone outside the door. Marchaud stands up and twirls his gun in his hand.  
"Let me see who that is." He nods at me to stand back. He cracks open the door, and I hear him talking to Henry in a low voice. He reaches his hand through the doorway and pulls back in a small envelope.  
"This was dropped off by the hotel staff. No name on it, just your suite number. Henry has already checked it." He hands the envelope to me.  
"For me?" I'm surprised. I expected another letter from Droger, for Mireille.  
"Well, take a look. It's pretty obvious." He sits back down and cradles the gun in his lap.  
Mireille stands behind me as I take out the folded paper. There's something inside. It's a short lock of dark hair- not even as long as my little finger.  
"Did they cut a sample of your hair when they kidnapped you?" Mireille asks.  
"I… I don't think so." I don't remember for sure, I know I did pass out during the ordeal. I look at the note, a single line scribbled across the page:  
_You know who this belongs to_.  
"So odd- maybe he feels badly about the whole thing and wants to return it to you." Mireille's voice is puzzled. "It's definitely his handwriting- it's the same as the letter he sent me."  
I tap the note so the lock falls out into my hand.  
A scream fills my ears and I feel a wave of panting fear roll over me. _There is no escape…_ I collapse to the floor.  
"Kirika!" Mireille kneels down on the floor, pulling me up to her. "Kirika- what is it?"  
"Did you hear it?" I pant out. "Did you-" I can tell from her eyes that she doesn't know what I'm saying. I turn away from her and stay on all fours, my head down.  
"I'm not… I'm not well." I feel myself shaking. Mireille runs her hands down my back.  
"Marchaud. Take her to the bedroom. I'm going to make her some tea and toast. She hasn't eaten since breakfast. That's what all this is about." Mireille's voice is shaking like mine. "She just needs to rest and eat."

The journey to the bedroom is slow. My legs give out often, but I refuse to let Marchaud carry me. Although my heart is no longer racing, I feel terribly weak. My stomach is back in knots- I don't want anything to eat, not now.  
"You should lay down." He admonishes me as I crawl across the bed.  
"Tape. Get me some tape." I plead with him as I crawl towards the picture. He leaves the room and I make my way across the large bed, finally reaching the other side by the wall and sliding down to the floor. He comes back in, walks around the bed and holds out the tape to me.  
"Just what exactly are you doing?" his voice sounds concerned.  
"Putting it back where it belongs." I tape the hair across the pillow on the bed in the picture.  
"What is going on in here? Kirika! What do you think you're doing?" Mireille's voice is shocked. I hear the clink of dishes as she sets them down on the nightstand.  
"She said she's putting her lock of hair back where it belongs." Marchaud's voice is full of disapproval.  
"What? That's enough- Marchaud, rip that picture off the wall immediately!" Mireille's voice is furious. He bends down and my hand comes up, chopping his wrist and twisting the gun out of his hand. I point the gun at him.  
"_No_. No one touches it." I wave him back. The gun shakes in my hand, and my finger trembles over the trigger.  
Marchaud and Mireille look at each other. She nods her head and he backs up, then walks quickly over to the doorway. I lay the gun down on the floor.  
"Kirika, this is nonsense. Just because you think you were there once- you have to stop this obsession." Mireille says, putting her hands on her hips. I violently shake my head, because she is wrong.  
"No. This hair belongs to _Anna_."  
Marchaud makes a strangled sound and steps back.  
"You must never say that." He chokes out. "Take that horrible thing down now, I beg you."  
"No." I reach for the gun again. Marchaud puts his hands to his face and gives a long sigh.  
"I warned you earlier. God help you, my child." Marchaud shakes his head and walks away.  
Mireille and I stare at one another. I take the gun and lay it on the nightstand, keeping it within easy reach.  
"Kirika- don't go down this path. There's a reason you don't remember your past. Let it be, please. _Please_." Her voice is strained and she looks like she's going to cry.  
"I can't- any more than you can." The words come out of my mouth, and I see the look on her face change. She turns to go out of the room.  
"Sweet dreams then." she slams the door.  
I sigh and lean back against the bed, exhausted. For some reason a tear rolls down my cheek. I know they are right, and I remember my conversation earlier with Marchaud.

_Chasing the ghosts of the past- will surely disturb those who should not be disturbed._

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	30. Chapter 30

_Page 30_

The pain wakes me. I hold my belly and feel the scar where I was shot. It feels hot, a sharp contrast to the cold air of the room. The covers are gone; I realize that I am sideways at the foot of the bed. I sit up groggily, shivering in the cold. Even though I managed to sleep a little, I feel more tired than the day before. Looking for the missing covers, my eye catches a dark spot in the bed. I crawl over to it.  
_Blood_. The stain is unmistakable; I've seen it too many times in my life. I feel my chest tighten with fear as I look around the room. All is quiet except for the hiss of the air conditioning flowing through the vents. I back quickly away from the stain, feeling my feet hit the lush carpet as I leave the bed and head towards the bathroom.  
I look at myself in the mirror and bring my finger up to my mouth. There's a small crust of blood that goes down to my chin. I grab a washrag and gently wash it off. Another spasm of pain shoots across my stomach and I drop the cloth into the sink. I grip the sides of the sink till the spasm calms and my breath returns.Wincing, I make my way out of the bathroom.  
Something is wrong, terribly wrong, but I don't know what it is. I go to find Mireille.

"She's in the bedroom on the left." Henry nods his head. He's in his sweats and sock feet, padding around the living room like a large dog. "I've called down for breakfast already."  
"Thank you." I mumble, holding my stomach.  
"Kirika- should I call a doctor? You don't look well at all this morning." He adjusts the pillows on the sofa and sits down, patting the cushion next to him. "Want to talk?"  
"No." I stumble past him. "I want Mireille."

She's still asleep; I watch her chest lightly rise and fall. She looks so peaceful- I want to touch her, to take some of that peace into my heart. I run my hand softly along the side of her face. Her lips part a little, but her eyes remain closed. My gaze wanders to the nightstand. I see the pictures on top of the letter. I look at her quickly and take my hand away from her, picking up the top photo.  
I gasp out loud. It's Mireille- a much younger, happier Mireille. Wearing a cream colored dress that compliments her hair. Smiling, in the arms of a man that although then much younger, has features that are unmistakable.  
"Droger." I shakily turn the picture over.  
_Dumond and Mireille_. The handwriting is delicate. Was it written by her mother?  
"Age four." I whisper, reading the last of the writing. I flip the picture over again, staring in disbelief. Surrounded by a garden morning glories, the two of them look so happy- Mireille has her hand to his lips, gazing up at him; and he's pursed his lips as if kissing her hand, returning her gaze.  
"I adored him, once." Her voice makes me jump and I drop the picture. I lean over to get it but her arm shoots out, blocking me.  
"Don't touch it again." Her voice is a warning. "Those pictures don't belong to you."  
I step back more as she swings her legs over the bed, bending over to scoop the picture up off the floor. She gently gathers up the pictures and letter. Hugging them to her chest, she walks over to the window. She looks outside for a moment, then sighs.  
"Kirika, I don't know how to tell this to you." Her voice sounds uncertain. "Or perhaps I shouldn't tell you at all." She stares silently out the window for another moment. I hear her take a deep breath.  
"I am the godchild of Dumond Droger."

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	31. Chapter 31

_Page 31_

"No!" The sharp pains from earlier shoot through my stomach again and I double over.  
"It's the truth, Kirika. I made a lot of calls last night- all over Corsica. Every last person who knew my family from that time, told me the same thing: Dumond is my godfather."  
I feel as if a knife is twisting in my stomach. _Dumond and Mireille_. The thing that Soldats fears most. I slide down the wall to the floor, my head in my hands. This cannot happen, it must not happen.  
"No wonder he taunted me like that, walking in there with Soldats. It must have been a slap in the face."she shakes her head. I remember our visit to Lacion prison; even then, the way Droger and Mireille had looked at each other had made me uneasy.  
_Dumond and Mireille_. I pull myself up slowly, the pain in my stomach still cutting into me. She has to stop, she has to stop now. I gingerly make my way towards her.  
"How very fitting." She pulls the curtains back, flooding the room with light. I stop, batting my eyes quickly at the invading sun.  
"In the end, my father was not so foolish after all. For what he could not do, he chose my godfather to do; strike the very heart of Soldats and destroy them." She runs her hands up and down the edge of the curtain in way that seems familiar to me.  
"The whole time he's been in exile- he's been planning and building for this. In a few days, he will be free- free to complete his mission."  
Silhouetted in the sun, she reminds me of Droger now, in her long gown, running her hands along the curtain the same way he had run his over the prison bars.  
"Mireille- don't do this. It's crazy." I beg her softly. She drops her hands and turns to look at me.  
"It's not any more crazy than you and your nightmare room is it?" her voice is sharp  
"That's different!" I feel the anger well up in me. "That room is the key to my past!"  
"That _room _is killing you- it's a noose around your neck!" she snorts angrily.  
"And Droger is a noose around yours!" I shoot back.  
"What's going on in there?" Uncle's voice thunders from outside the door, making us both jump.  
"None of your business!" Mireille shouts.  
"Mireille! Stop it!" I stamp my foot, sending a sharp pain through my belly.  
"Kirika, are you okay in there?" Uncle's voice sounds worried. Mireille scowls.  
"Go on. Your precious Uncle is worried about you." she dismisses me.  
"But Mireille…." I want to talk to her, to talk her out of this suicidal trap.  
"Go on- we'll talk more about it later." She shoves me out the door.

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	32. Chapter 32

_Page 32_

I sit at the table in absolute misery. Uncle is staring at me, but I can't look at him.  
"You haven't touched your breakfast, Kirika." He gently urges me.  
"Is it true?" I ask dully, not interested in food.  
"Is what true? Kirika, please, eat some toast or something." Uncle sounds worried.  
I push my toast with my knife. "Is it true about Mireille and Droger?"  
A silence fills the room. Henry holds his fork in mid-air. I look at Uncle. He wads up his napkin as if he's suddenly angry and throws it on the floor.  
"Damn him. Damn him to hell." He shakes his head in disgust. "Playing that card like this."  
I lay the knife down. I feel numb.  
"Roland Bouquet was a smart businessman, but he made two poor decisions in his life."  
Uncle grunts as he reaches down and retrieves his napkin.  
"Granting Droger a privilege he did not deserve; and denying Noir to Soldats." He looks at me and I see something in his eyes that makes me nervous.  
"He paid with his life for his second mistake; I hope his daughter does not pay with hers for his first."

A door slams and we all fall quiet as Mireille enters the room. She says nothing to acknowledge Uncle, instead marching to the end of the table and seating herself.  
"And a good morning to_ you_, Lady Bouquet." Uncle is displeased, I can tell by his tone.  
"Good morning, everyone." Mireille studiously helps herself to some tea.  
"Would you care to discuss what you and Kirika were yelling about this morning? She's so upset she can't even eat." Uncle looks pointedly at Mireille. She glances over at my plate and frowns.  
"Would you care to discuss why you lied to us about Droger?" she arches her eyebrows as she looks back at Uncle. "Maybe it's _you _that's sickened her to her stomach."  
"Mirielle!" I gasp out, shocked.  
"Droger manipulated your father. I would advise you not to let him do the same to you." Uncle's voice is tense. I can tell Mireille is getting to him.  
"Mirelle, please- please stop. I'll eat." I pick up the toast and bite into it. It's tasteless and I feel like gagging.  
"The past needs to stay in the past. We must focus on the problem here and now. _All _of us." Uncle nods his head at me. He wads up his napkin again. I watch him, feeling nervous.  
"He's right, you know." Henry interjects. "Everyone should just calm down and focus."  
"We need to plan our next course of action." Uncle reaches down and rubs his knee.  
"Better plan well. Droger's outsmarted you at every turn so far." Mireille snorts in disdain.  
"Mireille! How can you say such a thing?" my mouth falls open.  
"It's true. He's blocked their every move." she snaps out. "No wonder Soldats hates him!"  
"That wouldn't be because _someone_ has told him what our plans are, is it?" Uncle retorts, standing up so quickly that his chair falls over. The fury in his face frightens me; Mireille has pushed him too far this time, I can tell.  
She stands up, her face darkened with anger. I see her reach for her purse.  
"Mireille, no!" I cry out. She slams her purse down on the table and points at Uncle.  
"Get out."  
"No, Mireille! No!" I jump over to her and grab her arm.  
"Droger is using you! Come to your senses now!" Uncle takes his cane and points over the table at Mireille.  
"_Soldats_ is using me- using us- just to get back the book! Get out of _both_ our lives! _Now_!" she twists away from me, throwing me back onto the floor.  
Uncle slams his cane down on the table, sending the dishes crashing to the floor.  
"That's enough!" he thunders. "I will not tolerate this insolence another moment!" he whirls and stabs his cane down to the floor, heading towards the door. Henry, eyes wide, follows him silently.  
"What you can't tolerate is the _truth_!" Mireille shouts after him.  
Uncle takes a few more steps and stops. He turns slowly and looks at Mireille. The look in his eyes frightens me.  
"The truth… is that you've chosen the same path as your father. Goodbye, Mireille Bouquet."  
A sense of dread washes over me as he speaks. This must not happen- I cannot let it happen.  
"Uncle, please come back!" I call out to him, scrambling to get to my feet. He ignores me, continuing his path to the door.  
"Kirika- let him go." Mireille orders.  
"No!" I brush past her, running after him. "We cannot let him go!"  
Uncle doesn't look back at me. Henry clicks the door quickly behind them.  
"Wait, please!" I stumble around the corner of the sofa. I run panting to the door, and reach for the handle.  
"Kirika!" Mireille's voice stops me. I turn and face her. She's got her gun with the silencer on it, pointed at my head.  
"Let go of the doorknob. Now." She growls out.  
"But Mireille, you don't understand! You-" I jump as a bullet breaks the molding next to my head.  
"I said _now_." She takes another step forward, aiming between my eyes. My breathing is shallow, unsure. We stare at each other, her eyes glistening in that frightful way that I cannot bear to see. I have to save her from herself, from this madness.  
"You must trust them! Mireille- we have to- " I start to stutter out, but she interrupts me.  
"How _dare_ you betray me now!" her voice is shaking with anger. Her chest is heaving with emotion; I see her face twist as she tries to bring herself under control. She takes a few more steps towards me. Her face hardens and her eyes…I am afraid. I've never been afraid of Mireille before. She clears her throat to speak.  
"If you choose to go out that door- you will not come back in alive."

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